When someone refers to me as a
‘Lady’;
‘Just let this lady past’,
I,
internally,
cringe.
I cringe because…
In my head, I’m still that 12 year old girl,
rucksack on back,
on her way to school.*
(*truth be told,
I don’t think I’ll ever not feel like that,
even when I’m an old woman).
Now of course,
I’m not still that girl,
in fact,
I’m nearly 10 years older than that girl-
22 this year.
And so,
it is this discrepancy between how I feel about myself mentally,
and who I actually am-
physically–
that is a struggle for me.
A struggle that sees…
the thigh gap of my younger self-
gone–
replaced with wider hips,
a more ‘womanly‘ figure.
and, a struggle that sees…
my face-
my cheeks-
fuller,
no longer with a defined jawline,
for that too has gone…
No longer a child,
I am in a fight against womanhood,
a fight against myself.
Whereby…
Every time I look in the mirror,
every time I see my body,
my face,
me–
I feel a deep-rooted sense of disgust.
Body Dysmorphia,
or simply,
denial?
Whichever it is,
I am in a self-imposed fight
against womanhood,
a fight that can never be won,
try as I might.
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